


the scholars say

by Blank_Ideas



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (john is the art teacher), (they meet on tuesdays), HERE I AM, High School AU, Multi, alex is kind of a slut, alice sorry about the tags, and by that the only nod to this is eacker saying hamilton fucked the art teacher, anywag storytime naughty children this fic started at kfc, anyway, anyway read this trash it's actually good, apart from thomas he was motivated by gay, bully eacker, but not really, but this was the only way to smuggle jeffmads in so, but wait theres more, ft dad!washington and hyper!peggy, fuckaaronburr.com, gay? sorry i meant james, hence im on tag duty, hipster theo, how did they all become teachers? The Military™, i hate alexander hamilton club, i mean we sat down at kfc and ended up talking about hamilton characters, i only put that in to stop alices jamilton loving soul from murdering me, i'll just interrogate some internet friends, idk this is a mess neither of us have written much multichapter stuff before, im serious thats part of the backstory for like 5 of them, in regards to backstory, inspired by alice, it gets explained i promise, it's courtney writing the tags so, lots of nerdiness, neither of us are american, procrastinated, she wrote it and i kind of, so sorry for the inaccuracy, sorry lams shippers by implied we really do mean implied neither of us like lams v much, thats alices job, the poly ship is mostly implied btw sorry, they're all teachers apart from theo and philip, tiny philip - Freeform, u can blame alice for the weird rareships shes kinky, we flirted on google docs while writing this, we're writing two chaps ahead Just In Case, you can tell which one of us wrote a piece bc alice likes describing i like Hell Diologue, you know i made a popular post on tumblr AGAINST these fics and yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-10-09 08:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blank_Ideas/pseuds/Blank_Ideas
Summary: Philip Hamilton is more used to scenic boarding grounds than harsh grey buildings. And yet, when his parents divorce, and his father's teacher salary can no longer pay the fees, Philip winds up at Colonial High, where the teachers all love or hate his father, the students are a writhing mass of chaos, and Theodosia Burr Jr is his only friend. Plus, with bully George Eacker setting his sights on him, sophomore year is bound to be interesting.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was cowritten by alice (blank_ideas) and courtney (andpeggay). neither of us are american. both of us r gay. can u see where this is going

As brown eyes opened with in the dim lighting, a quiet groan leaked the chapped lips and the hoard of adorning chestnut curls drifted away from the fluttering lashes. Dust speckled surfaces reflected the soft light that seemed to leak like thick oil from the practically useless blinds that covered the small singular window that rested at the very end of the rectangular room. Battered mattress creaking beneath his movements, the boy sat up stiffly into consciousness and sloppily wiped the thin line of drool from his sharp chin. Silence. Tainting the air in a way he was unused to, it startled the boy until he realised that he wasn't resting on a soft sheeted bunk bed amongst a flock of other boys, nor would he ever again. Wistfully, his memories drawled on inside his groggy mind until he heard the sharp clatter and heavy thump, the jarring sounds belonging his father… again.

“Philip…” It was a warm masculine voice that called out for him, though it was spoken in a tired groan that requested help by just the sheer tone. Standing quickly, the boy rolled his eyes with a scowl before padding, barefooted, down the scrawny carpeted hallway.

There, in the midst of a dull white kitchen on the cold laminate flooring sat a man, dressed in an overly large green sweater and black tracksuit bottoms, his hair loose and long as it pooled around his narrow shoulders. Philip could only pause in his tracks and cross his arms as he watched the short man stand up and dust of the dirt that wasn't there.  
“What did you do?” he asked, completely deadpan. Judging by the numerous metallic pans that splayed out on the ground and the worktop, as well as the cupboard door that had left a dent on its companion to the left, nothing good.

“‘Doesn't matter now, breakfast is ready.” Alexander Hamilton, the childishly smirking man who'd previously just been sat on the floor, gestured wildly at the toaster as a pair of badly burnt slices of toast just barely peeked out from the bowels of the battered creature. Philip quirked a brow as he walked towards the fridge and retrieved a miniscule tub of butter from the meager supply of food within the noisy humming fridge.

“And how long has it been sat there?” Philip once again dared to question as he watched the smaller but older man attempt to clean up the early morning mess he'd made not five minutes ago.

“Half an hour.” Alexander replied simply as he shrugged his shoulders and glanced back at Philip, narrowed eyes of gleaming brown-flecked green suddenly tracing on the boys thin figure as they induced a sensation of helplessness on their target. The guilt in them shone but Philip was a smart boy, who simply scoffed and cautiously approached the toaster as though it were some sort of bomb, which it did look like, to be fair.

“I'm not eating these,” he announced. “I appreciate the thought, though.”   
Pinching the hard crusts beneath his fingertips with either hand, Philip sauntered over to the man and placed both slices of the cold yet burnt toast into the naturally tanned hands his father possessed.

“What're you gonna eat then?”   
The question was not replied to as Philip wandered back to his room and changed into a different set of clothing. He didn’t quite know himself, but anything was more appetising than the…’toast’ that had been ‘prepared’ for him. Ugh, he’d kill for his mom’s cooking right now.

Sometimes he cursed his inability to think ahead. God, he was so stupid, forgetting that his pa would unfortunately never be able to afford the fees for his old boarding school after the fortunate divorce, and that his dad practically subsisted off leftover takeout, sheer anger and perhaps a double-shot of espresso. And yet, he was too stubborn to go running back to his mother just yet. The boy was determined to last at least one semester, for the sake of his father. But at least, Theo was attending Colonial High too, and she was nice enough.

Okay, nice wasn’t the word to describe Theodosia Burr. Fierce, stubborn, fiery and extremely rebellious were all words that came to mind when one dared to think of Aaron Burr’s ‘delightful’ daughter. Dared was the correct word, seeing as Burr would often pop up from the most unexpected of places just to diss the young ‘rapscallion Hamilton’ and stop him from ruining the precious child.

Jesus, was anyone he knew normal? Probably not, knowing his luck. Missing his siblings, his mother, friends and previous life, Philip’s thoughts darted off track so much so that he'd ended up ignoring the furiously fast knock on his bedroom door.

“Pip, hurry up! We’re leaving in ten minutes, and I refuse to let Jefferson beat me to work, since Madison takes forever to get his coffee and it’s just a pain and- “ the man was rambling now, a flurry of words leaked from his ever moving lips as Philip chuckled softly and moved towards the door, deciding it was better to just get going then reminisce and make the man ramble further on.

Although, Philip did wonder why Jefferson’s punctuality affected Madison’s coffee rituals. Best not to ask, however, lest his father go off on another tangent and actually make them tardy. Economics teacher’s son or not, he doubted that his new principal would approve of any lateness….or maybe he’d be incredibly lax. Hopefully. Honestly, Philip had no idea. Public school was going to be weird.

The boy needed to stop overthinking. That was his dad’s fault, obviously. His mother was never angry; he’d only seen her truly upset when she found out about the affair. Philip hated thinking about the affair, because he loved his father, but it was both a dick move, and a source of permanent, undeniable tension.

Speaking of tension, he probably should go.

The expression on his father's face, the narrowed eyes that always gleamed with a flames spark, the childishly pouting lips of irritation and even the slumped posture to his shorter frame, it said it all. “Sorry Pa.” Philip mumbled ever so quietly before watching as bouncing steps that echoed down every hallway, deliberately, led his father down to the bus station where both Hamilton men found a tense, boring and awkward ride awaiting them.

As he contemplated his imminent doom - okay, slightly melodramatic, but he wasn’t a Hamilton for nothing - he furrowed his brow. Last time he checked, his father had a car. Not that he was going to question their sudden reliance on public transport. Then, of course, he remembered that his father’s car was his mom’s now, and was suddenly glad he didn’t bring it up. However, he still had a question.

“Pa, what does Madison’s coffee intake have to do with Jefferson?” he asked quietly, because he was willingly opening the gates of petty, adult hell.

“Oh, don’t get me started,” the elder Hamilton man replied, waving a hand flippantly. “Jefferdi-I mean Jefferson always gives Madison a ride although James is more than capable of driving himself, and I know he has a car. Some weird Virginian thing, I expect. God, I hate Virginia.”

“We went there last summer,” Philip pointed out.

“Last summer, I wasn’t having to deal with outsourcing funding from their school system,” his father complained, and Philip braced himself for the rant that was to follow. “They pay me a basic teaching rate, and expect me to manage their funding, their budget, everything. Head of governors is a douche, Pip. I can tell you that for free.”

Philip could only nod and roll his eyes as he directed them towards the clear glass window that displayed the images of cars and pedestrians racing to stay in frame while the building stayed motionless just like everything in this damn town. Sadly, that was how the rest of the ride went, in a world of blurred edges and drowned out words, unseen by those who were used to it and Philip Hamilton hoped he never became one of them.

“And then the prick asks me to- oh, Pip, we’re here,” his father paused his tirade long enough to drag the pair of them off the bus and onto the path leading up to Colonial High.

A hulking beast of building stood before the pair, rectangular limbs stemming off and forming limbs that seemed to remind Philip of a monster's arms with open windows as claws that leaked poisonous noise and only added to the contagious but highly irritating racket which infected the entirety of the bustling city. Arching and wide, the front doors continuously consumed students of varying sizes and colours into its humongous maw, hungrily the beast of a school sat there band in the middle of a prison made by fences of tall, iron rods which cross hatched continuously to make a wall of painted green. Crumbly and precarious, the path was made of gravel which seemed to dribble from the schools mouth and branch out to various other locations all of which students stood on the beasts saliva and chattered amongst themselves, like unknowing birds before lioness. When a mysterious beeping of an irritatingly high pitched occurred, Philip nearly jumped out of his skin before realising it was his father’s watch telling them that they were late.

He was so dead.

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then, like an avenging angel, Theodosia Burr swooped in to save the day.

And then, like an avenging angel, Theodosia Burr swooped in to save the day.

He didn’t recognise her at first; when his dad and Aaron Burr had first developed a ‘real’ rivalry, three years ago, she’d had short dark hair that made her pass as a boy, and a perpetual scowl that made her look constantly angry. Philip hadn’t seen her since then, what with boarding school and all. Now, however, she’d grown her curls out - they were long enough that she’d secured them back in two French braids - and the scowl had disappeared, replaced by a near-sullen expression of apathy. Puberty had hit Theodosia Burr hard. Yet, he still recognised her perfectly when she near-wrenched his arm out of his socket.  
“Philip,” she greeted, as if he’d never been gone. “You got your schedule yet?”

Philip turned to look back at his father, but he’d already disappeared into the crowd of milling students and faculty members. Probably for the best. Fortunately this didn’t seem like the kind of school where close familial relations were appreciated.

“Er, no?” he didn’t mean for his answer to come out as a question, but it did anyway. “Where do I-”

“Come with me,” Theodosia - no, Theo, she’d always hated that name, instructed confidently, tugging his arm again. Jesus, did Burr pay for boxing lessons or something? Scratch that, the idea of Burr, Mr Aaron Burr the most ridiculously overprotective father he knew paying for his innocent child to learn to fight, was ridiculous. It must have been Theodosia Senior. “Don’t trust anyone here, apart from Georges maybe. Those morons would stuff you in a locker - if they knew how to open one, that is.”

“Still sassy, I see,” Philip noted, allowing her to drag him along as he stumbled after her. “Doesn’t this school have, like, standards?”  
“Ha!” Theo laughed. “Philip, you really are sheltered. Rumour is that Eacker brings a gun to school, and have any of the teachers even threatened to search him?Nope.”  
“Your dad’s a teacher,” Philip pointed out.  
“So’s yours,” Theo shot back. “He hasn’t done anything either. Come on.”

She lead him through an endless concrete maze that seemed to be without pattern or regularity, until they arrived at what appeared to be a head office of sorts. Except that the only person there was a weary, peppered haired man in his early twenties, wearing some kind of pretentious post-grad robe. At least that was something Philip was used to. About half the teachers at his old school paraded through the corridors in their robes for shits and giggles, so he was glad to see that all twenty-somethings were this show-offish.  
“That’s Seabury,” Theo hissed, coming to a halt suddenly. “Apparently he’s head over heels with Frederick - he’s head of the Board of Education for the county - but Frederick’s either shitfaced or flirting with Washington. Either way, Seabury’s useless unless he thinks it’s to his advantage, so…”  
“Eww…” Philip muttered, cringing quietly as he stood next to Theo and surveyed the small nook they were stood on. “That’s… interesting?…” He wasn't sure how to word the thoughts that entered his head with the latest information that'd wreaked havoc on his sanity, but he wasn't about to question it.  
“Ugh,” Theo said flippantly, pressing her mouth into a line. “Pathetic, a better word for it. Go ask for your schedule; I’d come with you but he hates me.”  
“...Not surprised...” Philip remarked quietly, and Theo flashed him a blinding smile, effectively stunning him into silence.  
“He liked my dad’s diplomacy. I don’t. Nearly ratted me out once, but I shut him up quickly.”  
She gave him a ‘little’ shove towards the useless man before retreating back, a sly smirk slick on her lips as she strutted off, waving at the insulted face Philip pulled as he looked back at her in distress. 

Well. Clearly he’d have to man up a little.

Biting his lip, he walked towards Seabury, and cleared his throat.  
“Uh, sir, my name’s Philip Hamilton? My dad’s Mr Hamilton? I was told my schedule would be here?”  
Seabury didn’t even look up from his desk, just simply thrust out a sheet of paper.  
“Locker number and combination is on there too,” he said, voice monotone but nasal. “You’d better get to class.”

Idly, Philip wondered if all public schools were like this. He hoped not, because all the other kids his age would be utter idiots, no matter their intelligence.  
“Don’t bother about your locker,” Theo said when he returned to her. “Or your homeroom. The former will get kicked in, or is already kicked in, and the latter is full of diet cokeheads. Trust me when I say you should just risk the muscle pain involved in carrying all your stuff around.”  
She lead him back through the maze of walls, but not before he caught sight of two teachers (?) talking animatedly.

“James, it can’t possibly be a Latin derivative,” a man in a purple suit was saying. “My money’s on Greek.”  
“Your money is always on a Greek root,” his shorter companion groaned, voice echoing down the halls. “You have a royalty complex.”  
“Not true.” scoffed the taller man, rolling his eyes and huffing afterwards. 

“Who are th-”  
“Mr Jefferson and Mr Madison,” Theodosia answered, looking amused. “I’m not entirely sure if they’re just really good friends or dating, my dad won’t tell me, but they’re a riot. Madison teaches politics, though he’s always covering for Jay down in history, and Jefferson teaches geography. Jefferson’s a little...outspoken. They’re chalk and cheese, but get on super well.”  
“O..kay?” Philip replied tentatively, and Theodosia continued her whirlwind-esque ‘tour’.   
“Anyway, down here is the math department - where my dad teaches - and they hold Alexander Hamilton Hate Club here. Nothing personal, obviously, it’s just everyone likes to laugh at my dad rant about yours.”  
“Right.”  
“And along here is...well, it used to be the art and design department, but it’s kind of being used as a hub for hipsters or gay kids right now.”  
“Right.” The word was playing on his tied tongue like a broken record as he only just began to fall down the rabbit hole that was this god forsaken school.  
“Yeah, and over here is the politics, economics and geography corridor - half the school are betting on Jefferson and Madison, the other half on Jefferson and - actually, nevermind. Continuing on!”

Philip unfortunately inferred all too well what Theodosia had timely stopped herself from saying. Gross. Not that there was anything necessarily wrong with his dad being not-straight, but with another teacher? It was like something out of a shitty soap.  
“Yeah, anyway,” Theo said hastily, clearing her throat and smoothing the flyaway strands from her braids over her head. “Down here is language arts - English, French, blah blah blah. Lafayette does French, and half the time he’s cussing out the delinquents, or making them watch weird foreign films, apparently. I wouldn’t know. I don’t take French. Miss Schuyler takes English, all her sisters work here and she’s my favouri-”  
Cringing quietly, Philip watched Theo’s face morph into something of disgust.

“Eacker,” she spat, all the softness of her face replaced by hard, unfeeling rock. “One sec.”  
“Burr!” the hulking junior called mockingly. “Daddy stopped thinking you’re too good for everyone else around here?”  
“Choke,” she hissed, eyes blazing with pure, unadulterated hate. “Don’t you have some early learning class to go to, dickhead?”  
“Aw, but you haven’t introduced your little boyfriend,” Eacker cooed, “Show some respect, freshie.”  
“I’m a sophomore, and you’ve been held back two years, so don’t talk to me about respect, George,” Theo ground out, anger building within her shaking frame. “Piss off.”  
“I’m Philip,” Philip found himself blurting out. “Philip Hamilton.”  
“A Hamilton, huh?” Eacker asked, mouth curving up into a sadistic smile. “How very interesting. Heard that your dad found a good piece of ass, and decided to test the waters here?”  
“Enough,” Theo snapped, but Eacker took no notice.  
“Colonial High doesn’t tolerate f-”

Philip bit his lip so hard he tasted blood as Theodosia smacked Eacker square across his criminally ugly face, her mustard polo-neck a blur.   
“Seem to have an open door policy for assholes, though, don’t they,” Philip found himself saying, as Eacker clutched his square jaw. His expression was one of cool anger.  
“Oh, you’ll pay for that, Theodosia Burr,” the animalistic voice of Eacker growled out, ”Mark my words.”

“Did you just quote Heathers?” Theo asked under her breath, as she dragged him far, far away from Eacker.  
Philip stared blankly as her. “What?”  
“Nevermind,” she said dismissively. “Anyway, that was George Eacker. He’s a real ray of sunshine, so stay out of his way. Having your dad as a teacher here won’t help, it’ll just anger him further.”  
“This is hell,” Philip panted. “How do you even survive this place, Theo?”

Her face split open into a blinding cheshire smile, and she winked secretively.   
“Lunchtime clubs,” she said vaguely. “You’ll see what I mean. Come on, we’d better get to first period.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip is doomed to suffer through a few lessons.

Philip’s first few periods were an endless cycle of boring, useless introductions and the relentless droning of not only his teachers, but of his classmates also.

His first actual lesson was history, and, as Theo had promised, Mr Jay was absent on sick leave, his substitute being Mr Madison. Thoughtfully he had to admit, Madison didn’t seem half bad - he was smaller than the majority of his students, yet he kept good control and mature confidence over Philip’s fellow pupils. Greeting Philip with a smile (immediately followed by a cough), a quick nod over to a free desk, and was the only teacher who didn’t require him to stand up at the front and embarrass himself by talking about his name, age, and hobbies, all of which was obvious that no one wanted to know or already knew due to the wildfire gossip which aligned the maze of Hel- hallways. However, the lesson had no soft beginning, like one would expect from a substitute - it was a full lesson, with homework, graded work and quickly dealt write-ups. When Philip had expressed his shock at this to the seemingly-affable girl to his right, she simply shook her head and smiled.  
“Jay’s sick so often that Mr Madison gets paid for our lessons now because he teaches us and the kids who take politics as an elective. So he plans lessons and everything. Last year we only got taught Jay about five times, and he showed up a sixth time but ended up going home halfway through.”  
“Why don’t they just...fire him?” Philip asked, puzzled. The girl rolled her eyes.  
“If they did that, they’d have to pay way more in salary than they do now. Jay barely gets paid minimum wage, and Madison only gets a subsidy. If they hired an actual qualified teacher, it’d cost the district a ton,” she paused, then shrugged. “Besides, we all like Mr Madison. He doesn’t call on you when you don’t have your hand up, or make you feel bad if you miss a day.”

Interesting, Philip thought, but was too consumed by his hard work to interrogate his neighbour further. Sadly he barely even caught her name. Still, he had to admit that Madison was a good teacher; at his last school, teachers seemed to operate on a disciplinary schedule of what consisted of yelling over the tiniest thing, and without the constant background noise, he felt pretty productive for once.

His next class, Science with Miss P Schuyler (‘but you can call me Peggy, being called Schuyler just reminds me of my sisters’) was, well, loud. She liked exploding things, to the point where Philip’s stammered introduction was interrupted by her accidentally detonating some kind of chemical, and her teaching style was one of pure persistence. Meaning, if someone got the answer wrong, she simply didn’t correct them, only told them to ‘try again’. Surprisingly she was very pretty too; the boys at the back whooped whenever she turned around, and a few of them even tried to flirt with her, though her electric exuberant energy quickly put the dogs down. Philip, however, had a nagging sense that he recognised this woman - and he was right. After they’d cleaned up the mess they’d made while testing for starch, she’d pulled him aside, and grinned a cheshire grin.  
“So, nephew dearest, you don’t seem to take after your dad very much,” she remarked. He blinked, and her eyes widened a little.  
“Oh, shit! Wait, I shouldn’t - whatever, this school has heard worse…”  
“It’s Aunt Peggy, remember? You probably don’t, since there’s not much between us in age, and you’ve been packed off to boarding school half the time, but-”  
“Whoa,” Philip said slowly. “Wait...you’re Mom’s younger sister, right? The one who eloped?”  
“All of us eloped, actually, apart from Eliza,” she pointed out, still grinning wickedly. “But yeah. Didn’t exactly work out, since I’m still a Schuyler, but it was pretty much the closest I got to a teen rebel phase!” She spoke with exuberant excitement as the bouncing of her thin frame wouldn't stop.  
“Uh, Peggy? I’m going to be late for French,” Philip interrupted nervously. His aunt clapped a hand over her mouth.   
“Shoot, sorry!” she said, and made a shooing motion. “Bye, Philip! Catch ya later!” 

Despite not taking French herself, Theo had been right about Lafayette. He swore, he played a metric shitton of strange French cartoons (without subtitles) and generally acted more like a student than a teacher. Happily, Philip didn’t mind - it gave him a chance to contemplate his new setting. Of course, this lasted for all of ten seconds, since some troublemakers got caught chugging vodka and Lafayette promptly cussed them out, before giving them detentions.

And then he had his first class with Theo. 

It was Jefferson’s class; he ranted constantly about France and their government (after giving Philip the evil eye, of course) despite him teaching geography. Theo simply turned to Philip and began whispering across to him, with the world-weary expression of one who had heard the talk being given too many times before.  
“How’s your day been so far?” she asked in a hushed voice, shoving up the strap of her dungarees over her turtleneck hurriedly. “Not too traumatising, I hope?  
“It’s alright,” he mumbled back. “You were right about Lafayette. I don’t think I learned much between the French comics and the cussing-out of the kids drinking alcohol at the back.”

“As always, I’m right,” she said with a shark's grin, and Philip wished she’d smile more. Theo was pretty - a realisation that was more jarring than the switch between his old school and his new one. “Besides, word gets around fast in here. Why else do you think everyone knows about your dad’s struggles with commitment?”  
Philip didn’t get chance to answer; Jefferson had started handing out some worksheets about, of course, France.

That’s when it got really interesting.

Not many students ever noticed the small door that existed on the southern wall of the class, it was painted white but the paint had cracked and chipped with either disuse or harsh slamming, but that mystery was cleared up the moment that the tiny, innocent door was pounded upon, practically being battered off its hinges.  
“Jefferson, we can hear your damn class through the wall!” Alexander Hamilton's voice rang out from behind it, anger lining the usual sassy tone that came with handling teachers and students he didn't like all day, “Shut them up!”  
“My class are perfectly well behaved!” Mr Jefferson was right to point out as he halted in handing out sheets, placed them rather heavy handedly onto Philip’s desk and stormed towards the secondary door in the corner of his classroom.

Quickly the door opened, revealing a slither of the chaos that was economics next door, the students were either depressed, chugging ‘water’ bottles or arguing profusely over certain subjects, but amongst it all, blocking most of the classroom off by standing in the doorway was a man, short and stout in frame with long wisps of greying brown hair framing his tanned face, the second appearance of his father today was coming into play. Standing there, arms crossed, both men stood so close that students could practically see the friction and the electric that radiated between them.

“No, they are not.” Hamilton growled, pulling on Jefferson’s tie in order to pull the ridiculously tall man down to his level, giving some females the rather nice view of Jefferson’s behind. Lips practically touching, both men stared back at the other in a sort of western showdown, the intensity of it only comparing to that of the showdowns in cowboy movies.  
Eyes like guns, set a blazing with a mixture of unintelligible emotions Jefferson’s reply came loud, obvious but stunning in how he said it.

“Yes they are!” Jefferson’s body moved quickly as it freed itself from Hamilton's tight grasp not without their lips grazing upon accident, Philip assumed from the shock on Alexander's face as he was shoved back inside his own classroom with the door slamming shut as the simple exclamation mark at the end of his statement. Silence rang out amongst the class as Jefferson wiped his lips profusely, spitting in the bin beside his desk and cringing to add to his display of disgust.

“Oh my God,” Theo mumbled, dark eyes wide.  
“I thought you said him and Mr Madison are dating?” Philip asked, confused. She snapped to attention.  
“Well, that’s the rumour, yes,” she said slowly, keeping her voice low as normalcy returned. “And that’s certainly what my money’s on. But that was...weird. Not the fighting and confrontation, but the…lip touch thing.”  
“It looked pretty accidental to me,” Philip admitted, and Theo nodded in agreement.  
“Yeah, did to me too. And did you see the way he reacted? I don’t think it was anything on purpose. But this’ll definitely excite the Jamilton kids. They’ll go to any lengths to convince themselves that your dad and Jefferson are doing the dirty.”  
“They have a ship name?” Philip wondered, and Theo laughed.  
“Nothing compared to the rest of this mess, I assure you.”

\---

She was right about the lunchtime clubs.

As the bell rang, Jefferson scurried off somewhere, and for a split second Philip feared that he was going to be left alone. He never should’ve worried - Theodosia yanked at his arm again, and began dragging him through the slowly-familiar seeming corridors. 

All around them, a crowd of practically blood thirsty students pushed and shoved, but they held on to each other so tightly that his wrist began to hurt. Eventually, Theo lead him over to an empty classroom, where a guy who looked uncannily like Mr Lafayette and a few others were waiting.  
“Georges, salut,” Theo greeted, and the boy hugged her tightly, before pulling back to examine Philip.  
“Ah, Philip!” he exclaimed, voice thick with a French accent. “‘Ow’s your first day at ze school? I ‘eard you and Theo saw what ‘appened with ‘Amilton, eh?”  
“Yeah, we did,” Philip affirmed slowly, and Georges grinned toothily at him.  
“C’est intéressant, non?” he asked, and his smile was infectious. “I take it you ‘ad French avec mon père? I apologise for ‘im. ‘E is, ‘ow you say, a little wild.”

Theo, he noticed, was checking her watch avidly.  
“Ugh, they’re late,” she complained. “Mr Madison promised we’d do class wars, too.”  
“What are we doing, exactly?” Philip asked nervously, and her head snapped up.  
“This is Latin club,” she explained. “Madison and Jefferson run it, and it’s really fun. Because it’s an extra-curricular, you can talk in class, and when they’re in a good mood they let you play class wars and fight people for your honour using the foam swords. My dad doesn’t like it, but it’s not like he can stop me.”

Of course a hipster like Theo went to Latin club. Personally, he couldn’t stand the language - boarding school lessons held all the blame for that - but she’d described it as something fun, so why not tag along? Besides, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to hang out with.  
“Monsieur Madison!” Georges called cheerfully, and Mr Madison smiled tiredly, his short stature making Philip feel like he was of average height now that they were all stood up together. “Où est ton copain?”  
“Mr Jefferson will be attending any minute,” Madison assured, unlocking the door. “Oh, hello, Philip. Theo dragging you along, is she?”  
“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” he said shyly. “Anyway, it seems fun.”

Madison pushed the door open, and the teenagers entered, not without a little chaos. He held up a hand.  
“Now, now,” he said weakly, coughing into a tissue. “We can’t do anything until another member of staff arrives, that member being Mr Jefferson. So, seeing as we have a new face, let’s all introduce ourselves, shall we? Emma, you go first.”

A pale blonde girl with startling-blue eyes sent Philip a curious look, and stood up.  
“My name’s Emma, I’m a freshman and I like Harry Potter.”   
Mr Madison smiled, and clapped, encouraging the others to join in.  
“Right, go on. Jasper?”  
“I’m Jasper, I’m a junior and I play basketball.”   
“I’m Sara, I’m a sophomore and I can speak fluent Spanish.”

And so they continued to make these introductions, until they reached Philip. Quietly he stood up, and looked over to Theo, who smiled at him encouragingly.  
“My name is Philip, I’m a massive nerd, just like my dad I guess.” He smiled slightly as he looked up at the rest of the group, running a hand through his frizzy hair. “So y’all better watch out, ‘cos I'll blow you all away!” Philip declared this with the amused looks from Theodosia edging on his voice, making it louder, prouder… more confident.

“I’m here!” a southern drawl interrupted, and Mr Madison rolled his eyes, his face fond.  
“Mr Jefferson. Deigned to grace us with your presence, I see?”

Jefferson scoffed, but there was no anger in his expression like there had been with Philip’s father. Theo leaned across to whisper to him.  
“See why I think they’re fucking?” she asked casually, and Philip swatted her arm.  
“Theo!” he hissed, slightly flustered. Nobody at his boarding school spoke like that. She simply winked.

“Right, who’s ready for class wars?” Jefferson asked, and the other kids cheered loudly, even Theo.  
“Alright. The year is...uh, Ja-Mr Madison, what year was Caesar assassinated?”  
“Name slip!” Theo whisper-yelled in Philip’s ear gleefully, braids thwacking him in the face.  
“44 BC, Mr Jefferson,” Madison replied dutifully, gathering some foam weapons out of a closet. “And if we’re doing the Ides of March, I nominate Georges to be Caesar.”  
“Monsieur!” Georges exclaimed, affronted, and Mr Madison simply grinned. It was a strange expression, since Mr Madison didn’t seem like the type to smile very much, but it did brighten his face.  
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Theodosia, how about you go as Caesar?”

Philip didn’t pretend to know why Theo smiled so brightly at the prospect of being attacked by a room full of children, but he didn’t say anything.  
“Yes!” she yelled. “Mr Madison, can Philip be Brutus?”  
“I suppose,” he said with a shrug, and Theo made a little fistpump. Turning to Philip she exclaimed,  
“Now I get to quote Caesar at you and die dramatically in your arms,” she said excitedly. “I love it when they let us do Caesar’s death. It’s so fun!” She smiled sadistically. 

Fun was not the word Philip would’ve used as he, and another dozen teenagers, charged towards Theo, her smile blinding. Someone jabbed her side with their foam sword, and amongst the calls of “First blood!”, Mr Jefferson held up a hand.  
“Get in line, all of you! If we’re going to enact this, I want a STRAIGHT AND SENSIBLE LINE!”  
“We’re trying to fake-murder Theo,” Philip said, aghast, to Georges. The French boy shrugged at him.  
“Monsieur Jefferson is, ‘ow you say...uptight, oui? ‘E likes ze accuracy.”  
“This is ridiculous,” he mumbled, as Sara hit Theo around the side of the head dramatically.   
“No head injuries!” Mr Madison called, marking his class’ essays in the far corner. “Or we won’t do class wars for another month, you hear?”  
“Yes, sir,” she apologised, stepping to the back of the line. 

Philip was up next.

As he hit her shoulder with the fake sword, Theo swooned dramatically.   
“Et tu, Brutus?” she asked, clutching her chest, and the class cheered.  
“Theo, quit dying! I want another go!”  
“BUSY BLEEDING OUT HERE!” she called back, and sagged into Philip’s awkwardly-placed arms and ‘died’.

“This is mad,” Philip mumbled under his breath as Theo straightened again, arm loosely resting on his shoulder.  
“This is Colonial High,” she answered, her voice humorous. “Fun, right?”


End file.
